CHAPTER ONE

      “I can hear you thinking too hard, even from down here.”

      Toni snapped out of her muse to gaze below at her husband. He stood beneath the balcony.

      “Come out and get your feet wet.” He invited, waving toward the beach.

      “Where are the others?” She looked beyond him to the beach.

      “Snuck back inside.” His grin was wry. Wind tugged at his linen shirt, there was sand on his bare feet. “Come down, Toni. You will hate yourself if you do not enjoy a bit of the beach while you are here. “

      She sighed and nodded, turned back inside and to her room, where she did nothing more than pull off her slippers and stockings. Clad in a gauzy summer gown with tiny buttons up a low bodice, ribbon sleeves, she padded below and out the French doors to find him waiting.

      It was much easier eyeing him from above than looking up at him, she mused. He held a hand out to her. She took it and strolled with him, smelling his scent, the sun and wind, a kind of salt tinged maleness.

      Her hair had been piled up this morning, but pieces were teased loose and she left them that way. When they stepped onto the sand, she felt his fingers flex until she grew used to the unsure footing.

      For a moment she looked out at the beauty of the ocean, a yacht was in the distance, sea gulls cried.

      “It makes one feel small, doesn’t it?” she mused aloud.

      “Yes. Rather like looking up at the heavens at night.”

      Toni glanced at him and thought about pulling her hand free, but she was struck when glanced at her, by the aqua hue of his eyes, the seriousness of his expression. To be honest, the London facade had been so thick between them—her fault entirely—that she had not invited him to take her seriously.

      His gaze moved over her face and then he looked back at the ocean. After a few moments he led her down to the water.

      Romel released her hand and Toni walked into the waves, letting it wet her to the knee and tug her hem as it dragged back by the tow.

      She tilted her head up, closing her eyes and thinking that in a few hours the sun would set. It felt glorious now, as did the water, and there was sense of being unfettered standing there.

      Lowering her head when a wave smashed upon her, spraying her all over, she laughed, opening her eyes and pulling up her hem to dash for shore. The evening tides were rising.

      Wringing out her hem, holding it to the knee she remembered Romel and looked to find him a few feet away, standing there, and simply watching her.

      Her smile faded. Toni swallowed, feeling that intense sensation that pulled toward him. Though the breeze ruffled his mane and the water lapped at his feet, he was obviously focused on her.

      “Don’t do that,” she mumbled, thinking he wouldn’t hear her.

      Yet, he did, and his voice carried back, “What?”

      “Stare at me.” She let the hem go, glanced at him and then walked a bit up the beach.

      She paused and eyed some distance rocks, cliffs that spilled down and cut off the private section.  Pushing back curls off her forehead she felt him catch up, felt him standing just behind her right shoulder.

      “It is a secluded spot. I could hold your gown for you if you want to bathe in the ocean.”

      She peeked back and up at him. “I’ll bet you would.”

      His grin appeared though his eyes were holding hers steady. “This isn’t London, Toni. Neither will the estate demand formality. I haven’t demanded it. It’s always been up to you to take advantage of what you can do, since wedding me.”

      “Being tricked, you mean.”

      His brow rose. “You’d prefer living with Layla or Jaiden, living the life of a single woman, doing the pretty in parlors and trying to steal a thrill or two by slipping off now and then to some forbidden—”

      “Do hush.” She looked away, back toward the rocks. “I’m perfectly aware of the advantages. It’s simply that you aren’t the sort to appreciate them with.”

      A grunt sounded before he leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Would you watch my clothing whist I bathed in the ocean?”

      Cheeks flushed she shook her head, though the image tempted her.

      He was still leaning as he added, “You were curious, that’s no sin, Antoinette. You are still like that, only you let some...fear of me, keep you from exploring it.”

      “Fear.” She snorted. “Ha!”

      His hand landed on her shoulder, skin touching skin, and his other cupped her cheek, turning her to look at him again.

      “Do you know what you said when I stripped down on our wedding night?”

      “No. and I wouldn’t believe a thing you claimed I did.” Her eyes widened meaningfully. “And I was foxed.”

      He laughed. “Very well. But you were complimentarily in liking what you saw of your husband, more than those men at the clubs.”

      “You’re an arrogant ass, Romel.” She pushed his hand down, though her cheeks heated.

      She may very well have said that, since it was true. Even seeing him in those exercise trousers, shirtless, it was obvious he was all over bronze, taut with sinew and muscle, a sleek male animal. He had tattoos, markings of oriental design on his right shoulder, half down his arm, and on his thighs, golden and red, that set off his skin. 

      “You know you’re beautiful, Toni. People have told you that all your life. But you’re a sensual creature, a free soul, when you let go and pull the quills in.”

      She stepped away and then turned to face him, her gaze fighting not to scan his open shirt, to mark the slabs of his pecs and that rippled stomach. It was hard enough looking at his face. Pretending to be unaffected.

      “What is it you want of me, Romel? You want me to be all soft and mewling because I look like I should be? Because I’m a wife, a Countess or...”

      He was shaking his head slowly. “Honest, Toni. Be honest.” He looked away and then back. “You’re not that little rebel. Cannot be anymore. It is not me or the marriage that changed it. It’s the fact you’ve been given whatever you want and you’re afraid of it.”

      She sucked a sharp breath through her nose, experiencing one of those moments where she knew he was provoking her. “I was a fool to wed you. I’m not sure why I gave in, because I don’t think you would have revealed my secrets.”

      A nerve ticked in his jaw but he held her gaze. “You wed me not because of that, but because you saw everything different in me that you couldn’t find in the men you were supposed to choose. You did it because you knew deep down, I would show you things they would not. Because Toni, you wanted me, sexually and every other way.”

      Her lips parted. “My. But aren’t you just full of yourself.” She started back toward the manor.

      He caught up, walking beside her. “I wanted you too.”

      She stopped.

      He stopped.

      She looked at him. “Am I to be flattered by something I’ve heard before?”

      “You should be. I have had beautiful women, exotic women. You amused, angered, and distracted me. I like your spirit, your wit, your bite even, when you’re not using it to hide behind.”

      His white smile came slowly. “You provoke me, Antoinette, but you don’t bore me.”

      “I recall that mantra from my mother. Women should never bore men.” She rolled her eyes.

      “Men can be boring too. However, let us not get off the subject. You challenge and excite me. I admit, I did not count on your stubbornness lasting so long—I rather thought we would progress past that much sooner.

      Nevertheless, you should probably understand something right now. I have given you time. Invitation. Room. In addition, I am a bit more seasoned that you are. You have not enjoyed it, because you do not want distance from me. When you can be honest about it, I’ll show you what you wanted me for, from the moment we met.”

      She stood there while he turned and walked on.

      Swallowing Toni thought, oh bloody hell. She’d had a feeling this reckoning was coming.

* * * *

      Much later, when they were in the rooms assigned them, she came out of the bathing chamber dabbing water from her hair and wearing a silk robe. She intended to dress, see the ladies, kiss the babies, and let the men end the evening in the library. She had intended to see to the packing, perhaps have a quiet coffee on the veranda.

      Romel, having used the guest bath was standing in the room, a towel on his hips as he sipped a brandy, and leaned against the windowsill, opened to allow the night breeze in.  His hair was damp, his profile somewhat remote, but his presence filling the room, making it seem smaller, more intimate.

      Rubbing her hair she turned and sat at the vanity. Letting the toweling fall to her lap, and then pulling a wide comb through her shoulder length curls. The breeze was drying it, and teasing the air on her upper chest.  Her gaze in the mirror was not there, but on him.

      The toweling was in contrast to the bronze of his body. A tall frame that was sculpted and far, far, more attractive than any in the clubs. To be honest, she had never imagined a man could look like he did. She could not have guessed those round buttocks, strong thighs and calves, the ripples in his stomach, round muscles on his arms and shoulders. She could not picture that face either; its craggy strength, the light turquoise eyes.

      Discarding the comb, she sat that way a moment, hands in her lap and eyes on his reflection. A flash went through her mind. Those kisses. A kiss after the wedding, in the coach. She remembered as if it was a moment ago. That his mouth was velvet soft, his tongue sleek and erotic, his dominance with the kiss, exciting. She remembered those muscular thighs flexing and the tattoo’s glowing in candle light, the one on his shoulder, swirls and designs she might have…traced with her tongue.

      Toni blinked and realized he had turned and was looking at her, catching her gaze in the mirror.

      She felt mesmerized as he his rolled his shoulder, more facing her and leaning against the sill. His free hand, veined and strong, came to rest on his chest. Slowly he skimmed it down, over his ribs, down to the edge of the towel until his fingertips were in the edge.

      She wet her lips, flickering her glance back up to see his intense face.

      “Play a game with me, Toni," his hushed tone invited her.

      “What?” She whispered.

      “Play. Pretend for a moment you do not have to think of whom you are, or who I am, or that either of us will remember. Let time stand still, and be my playmate.”

      “That’s silly,” she husked fighting the skitter of arousal at his intensity, his action, his voice.

      “It’s not silly. It is exciting.” He let his fingers slide a bit further into the towel, very close to where the fold held his sex disguised. “You can stay right there. Slide your hand between the fold of the robe.”

      Her heart beat in her ears. The room, her skin was hot and sultry. “We’re going below, for dinner and...”

      “Time is standing still, remember,” he cut her off. “Is your heart pounding? Mine is, steady and hard. Listen to it. Feel the heat under your skin. Your nipples are hard.”

      They were, but she curled her fingers in her lap, watching him slide another inch inside the towel. Her gaze flickered up as he spoke again, the night putting him more in shadow but his skin and eyes too warm to be muted completely.

      “Just an inch or two, one hand. Ease it between the edges of the robe, part your thighs.”

      “Romel.” She wanted to say something, something to break the spell.

      However, he closed his eyes a moment, leaned his head back and murmured, “You’re soft and wet there, Antoinette. Warm and musky and sleek. I am hot and hard. When I was in you, on our wedding night, you opened your thighs wide and arched up and rode me.”

      “God,” she choked and looked down, bringing her elbows to the vanity table, rubbing her face with her hands. “This is not the time to—”

      “—I’ve given you time, Antoinette. I need to come and I’d rather it be mutual and erotic, rather than me releasing tension from nothing more than fantasies.”

      She dragged her hands down so that her fingers were against her lips, her face flushed as she whispered, “Why are you being like this?”

      “I’m like this. This is me.” He opened his eyes and looked at her tensely. “And since you know we’re sexual creatures let’s not pretend otherwise. If I had wanted sex I could have done the typical and gotten a mistress. I chose a wife, you. Moreover, I chose you for the reason you did me. If you wanted the ordinary, you had plenty of choices.”

      Her gaze flickered down and back up. “This is. I mean, we’re guests here and...”

      He leaned his head back, laughed rough and short then groaned and straightened, downing the drink.

      She watched as he padded over, standing at the back of her chair a moment.

      He said, “You have to learn to forget where you are, wife.” He leaned down, kissed her temple and said against it. “Get dressed, visit your sisters, and Bronté, you’ll probably be asleep when I return.”

      She watched him walk to the chair holding his clothing. He dropped the towel, giving her a view of his nude backside, his glorious backside, before he started to dress.

      Toni arose and went behind the screen. Her fingers shook as she pulled on white stockings, a chemise and deep rose gown. She emerged, aware of him, but setting herself to gathering her curls up, inserting combs, finishing until she stood, holding the back of her chair.

      The slide of silk against starch relayed he was putting on his cravat.  She turned slowly.

      Romel turned too, dressed formally, black boots, trousers, the white shirt and tying his cravat. His hair was combed, still a bit mussed as if he ran his hand through it.

      “You look lovely.”

      She smiled strained. “Thank you.”

      His brow quirked, he turned and slid on his jacket.

      It was the first time she had taken his compliment without a come back.

      When he faced her, adjusting the lapels of the deep black and red jacket, the hem reaching his thighs, Toni blurt softly, “So do you. Handsome I mean.”

      His eyes smiled. “Thank you.” He finished and offered his arm. “Shall we.”

      She stepped up and took it.

* * * *

      “I don’t understand you, Toni.” Bronté, propped on pillows, her lush brown hair combed back and tied in a tail. One twin in the crook of her arm, the other in Toni’s arms, where she sat beside the bed, added, “Isn’t that what you wanted, really? The excitement, the kind of male who would show you all those delightful delicious things.”

      “Yes, in a way.” Toni stroked the baby’s head. It had a lot of black hair already and a cute scrunched up face with bow lips. “Although, I’ve wanted someone who thinks more of me than...in a sexual way.”

      Bronté visually skimmed her face and then met her gaze. “Sometimes if you are extremely attracted, it takes that intimacy to open other doors. I did not know a bloody thing about Desalle save that he excited me. And scared me.”

      She laughed. “If I had not wanted him so intensely, or gone to him, I’d never have known anything of his past or how he felt of me. He needed me to trust him too, to want him. That’s not so terrible a thing.”

      Toni chewed her lip and sighed. “All right. It is not. However, I do not like this feeling of being off guard. He makes me feel like… I... like things happen between us that in my right mind, I wouldn’t say or do them.”

      “It’s not about your right mind,” Bronté said, winking as they both heard footfalls in the hall, knowing their intimate conversation would be short lived. It was probably Desalle.

      When Toni leaned to place the babe in her other arm, to kiss them, and then Bronté’s temple, her friend said something startlingly familiar, “Just forget you’re you, with all your fears or resentments or whatever. Just pretend you’re someone else, the part of you that wants to feel desired and to taste a man’s kisses, to see his want of you.”

      Desalle poked his head in the door, his braids covered by a vivid red scarf but his clothing the typical billow shirt and snug black trousers. “How are you, love?”

      “Fine.” Bronté smiled.

      Toni observed his wink, Bronté’s smile, and the deep bond of intimacy and passion between them. It was love, but it was more.

      “You have remarkably beautiful and well tempered children, Desalle.” Toni told him laughing.

      His brow rose. “The Beauty comes from Bronté. As to the temperament, well, they’re still new. We’ll see in a few years how rowdy I can make them.”

      Bronté shook her head, and Toni gave her one more hug before Desalle stepped back to allow her out. In the hall she pushed the pirate in the room. “Go on. I can see the Duke’s rules and all the admonitions for you to let them rest are for naught.”

      He turned and winked. “Bronté sleeps better with me near. And the babes may as well get used to snuggling like two pups between us.”

      After the door closed, Toni heard their soft voices, the cry and soon soothing of Desalle’s voice to the child. As she headed to Jaiden’s rooms, she smiled, because he was singing a rather salty ditty to the babe.

      Raven was lying across Jaiden’s bed.

      Toni leaned against the door facing. “Did none of you show up for dinner with your father?”

      He rolled and looked at her. “Romel and Juliana.”

      She laughed. “Well, may I intrude; kiss my sister and niece goodbye.”

      He waved her in.

      “Thank you for coming, Toni.” Jaiden embraced her back as Raven had the babe against his side.

      “I wouldn’t have missed it. Although, all of you going into labor so close had the house, and the duke in frenzy.”

      Jaiden laughed. “He should blame his lusty sons. And daughter for that.”

      “Speaking of which,” Raven drew Toni’s attention as she straightened. “Are you still torturing Romy or is his bed a bit warmer than—”

      “Raven,” Jaiden scolded.

      Toni looked at him dryly. “You all but threw me to him. So if it is not a passionate match, that is simply too bad. No one forced the man to the alter, in fact—“

      “Toni.” Raven cut her off. “It’s time you grew up.”

      She clamped her lips shut, glared at him, then sighed and conceded. “Yes it is.” Then she kissed the babe and pulled Raven’s hair playfully as she said before parting, “I don’t know what my sister sees in you, ugly man.”

      He laughed and murmured, “As ugly as you, puss.”

      Toni closed the door and went to Layla’s room. She knocked this time. Not at all surprised when the viscount opened it.

      Xavier, leaning on his cane, in formal clothing as if his intention was to join his father, and he obviously never made it. He stepped back and waved her in. “She’s sleeping.”

      Toni tiptoed past him, standing a moment admiring Layla laying there with her long hair braided over one shoulder. Her face was beautiful, though Layla never thought herself so. Motherhood, like marriage to the handsome viscount transformed the woman.

      The babe was swaddled and in a cradle. Toni went to it and leaned down to kiss the sleeping child.

      Suddenly tears filled her eyes. Antoinette did not weep. She laughed, she jested, and she rebelled. Yet, she found her throat closed and looked over to find the handsome green eyes of Viscount Brindle looking at her.

      “Thank you. Thank you, for... Well you know.” She wiped her eyes and motioned toward Layla. “She’s been my protector, my friend, someone I drove daft but admired greatly.”

      She shook her head. “You saw that, all at once, didn’t you.”

      “Yes.” He smiled softly. “And what she had to see beyond, with me.” He shrugged. “I feel too fortunate sometimes.”

      She nodded and after kissing her sister, went to pass him, backed up and kissed his cheek, whispering, “Don’t tell Raven I did that.”

      He laughed and walked her to the door. There he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Antoinette?”

      She met his gaze.

      “It’s all right to be happy. To be free and let go of some of that pride now. Romel wants that for you, too.”

      She smiled short and winked at him. However, walking back to her rooms, to shed her gown but not to sleep, simply to stand by that window and look out at the moon lit ocean. Toni was afraid, afraid of honesty.

      Because what if everyone was right, and behind the beauty and behind the desire, if she loved the way they did, there was nothing to make a man hers forever?

      What if she let go and let passion fly, and love followed. What if Romel seduced not only her body, but her heart and soul as well?